Approaching the Detective
by Fluffy Octopus SSSSo3oSSSS
Summary: "We come from the less known part of this world; Middle Earth, we call it... We came to your friend for help, for we believe that the wizard may not yet be dead." Sherlock helps the Fellowship find Gandalf. Labelled Sherlock x Gandalf but there's actually no romance.
1. Approaching the Detective

Hey I'm back with another fanfiction; my favourite TV series and movie(s). Sherlock (please note: the BBC version, the one which has 3 eps per season and takes **2 TORTUROUS YEARS **for a new season) and LOTR. Basically Sherlock helps the Fellowship find Gandalf (set in the first movie). Apologies if it's boring, OOC, have spelling errors or any other awful thing one can find in fanfics.

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John walked into the room, his hands full of files. "Sherlock, were these the pictures you asked Lestrade to give –" He abruptly stopped, his eyebrows raised.

Sherlock was squatting in his usual armchair, deep concentration written all over his face. He seemed to be wearing a sort of crumple-up hat on his head, a green cloak draped across his shoulders and a bunch of grey hair in his hands.

And then there was the group of 8 men sitting on the sofa across him.

Out of the 3 most average-looking, 2 of them looked just like any other human man, that is, any other man who had no grooming skills, with their hair looking like it hadn't been shampooed in months and their clothes tattered and torn. The third had unusually pointy ears and possessed long blonde hair that could be in a shampoo commercial.

The other 5 were quite small – they would come up to slightly less than half of Sherlock's height if standing up – and looked mostly the same, with the exception of one fellow who was covered from head to toe in armor. The others had curly hair on their feet and heads.

Out of all of Sherlock's customers, they were the weirdest bunch yet.

The atmosphere was tense as Sherlock stared at them, they stared at Sherlock, and John stared back and forth between the two groups, unsure which one to focus on. Finally, Sherlock broke his gaze and turned to John impatiently.

"John, please, even in you can't be as stealthy as a ninja try to be as quick as one. Meet the Fellowship. The Fellowship – this is John. Now can you go away attempt to stop gawping at Legolas' hair; yes, it is certainly wonderful." Sherlock said brusquely, flashing a smile towards the blonde-haired one before turning back to his original position.

John knew that tone of voice; it was the common 'John get the hell out of here' type that Sherlock used whenever he returned to his mind-castle. He gave one last quick glance towards the Fellowship and hastily scurried out the house for a walk to Mycroft's, hoping that he'd have some more information.

'Darn, he's out of the country on business,' he conveniently remembered after the 15 minute bus ride there, and returned instead to the house, hoping that Sherlock would let him get away with sitting in the kitchen.

He was looking at the darkening sky when one of the Fellowship bumped into him. "Mister John, what're you doing here?" John looked down to see who it was; then had to look further down to see his face. He was one of the smaller ones – actually, the whole Fellowship was there!

"Thank… thank god I found you guys. I've spent the last 30 **bloody** minutes wondering what your business with Sherlock was." John was surprised at himself; he usually wasn't this interested in Sherlock's cases, but this bunch was… Interesting.

"No need to use vulgarities, lad!" The guy with the bushy beard grumbled, lifting his axe (which John had uncomfortably just noticed) an inch higher.

"Gimli, please, this is an innocent man," one of the normal sized men raised his hand.

"We come from the less known part of this world; Middle Earth, we call it. We are now at group of 8 men, elf dwarf and hobbits; yet we started out with 9, the wizard leading us having been lost in the treacherous mines of Moria. We came to your friend for help, for we believe that the wizard may not yet be dead."

John staggered slightly under all the information, his simple mind trying to digest the information. The fellowship, finally realising that this man was completely unlike the previous, gave him a few minutes to collect himself before continuing.

"Unfortunately, your friend told us information that made no sense to any of us. He claimed that the wizard was still alive, but reborn under a different name, with a different body. If you have any more information on Gandalf please report to either Bag End (the Shire, Hobbitton) or the Last Homely Home (Rivendell, the Lonely Mountains). Thank you sincerely and may the grace of the Valar be with you both." The other (normal) man spoke, bowed, and together they all left.

John stared at them as they hailed 3 cabs and divided themselves, standing there on the sidewalk until the cabs were all gone, and continued to walk back to the apartment. That case would be glued into his mind for the rest of his life; it would be that one moment which he wouldn't be sure if it was real or simply a dream.

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If you like the story: review and follow (note that I am not very consistent)

If you hate it: I'd say Nai Valaraukar tye-mátar (aka may balrogs eat you) but you can just go read other stuff. People have differing opinions.

for reading this,

**Le hannon**


	2. The Detective is Amused

Hello, readers. I've been away for some time, and decided to get back into the game. It's hard to start again after a long break, so please give me a bit of slack. Not the best chapter I've written, but you really do have to continue on to the next chapter to judge. Cos' it's a series, see, and series tend to require prolonged periods of following and reading. You guys know that** Martin Freeman (John) has been casted as Bilbo** right? It'll only make sense if you know that. Will probably do one with Sherlock as the Necromancer/Sauron or maybe Smaug. Yeah.

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Sherlock was very much amused.

John had been having rather odd dreams lately. He dismissed them as simply signs of stress (Sherlock and Mycroft had started to argue viciously again, and it often took John multiple tries to break up the fights) until they got longer, and odder.

He'd been dreading telling Sherlock, who was sure to ignore John and tell him to lay off the caffeine, but when he finally tackled Sherlock during breakfast he seemed rather interested.

"So let me get this straight: In your dream, you live in a hole in the ground-"

"Yes, a very comfortable one, with lighting and heating and all…"

"-Then a group of dwarves break in and insist that you feed them before whisking you away-" The sides of Sherlock's mouth was beginning to twitch a bit.

"Not really 'break in', actually…"

"Off on a silly adventure to loot a dragon and reclaim the land of someone else. "

"If you say it that way, everything sounds bad," countered John, who felt a strong urge to defend his dream, "but it felt really real. Also, I became Frodo's uncle," finished John rather lamely.

At the sound of Frodo's name, Sherlock had a small spark in his eye, as if he'd just remembered something entertaining.

"Talking about Frodo… A few members of the Fellowship may be popping over a couple of times over the next few weeks. It's nothing really, just that they owe me favours for the last time and I've decided to cash them in," Sherlock was grinning now.

"Just let them in if I'm not home… This week is brilliant. It's a brilliant week!" Exulted Sherlock, who was already walking out the door, muttering about getting a new scarf.

This was the start of a very, very hectic month for poor John.

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As usual:

Follow if you like it - Review if you have a view about it (hem hem no vulgarities, mister!)- Don't continue reading if you think it's awful.

Thanks for reading this

**_Hannon Le_**


	3. Alternate: The Detective is Not Amused

This is the alternate version to The Detective Is Amused. I wasn't completely satisfied with the idea of sherlock cashing in favours so I decided to make another one where the Fellowship cash in favors instead. Not very clear here, I'm afraid; I tend to have long introductions... I hope you enjoy this version too. Hopefully I'll be able to update both at a more or less regular pace. If not, I'll ditch one.

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Sherlock could not be less unhappy.

An appropriate quote to fit the situation would be 'We are not amused'. For John, this was this was the equivalent of a flashing, neon yellow warning sign hovering over Sherlock's head, police tape surrounding a radius of 2m around him and a very loud evacuation signal blaring throughout the house.

Which of course meant that he should try to cheer him up as much as possible.

The root of the problem was –who else than- Sherlock's older brother dearest, Mycroft. They'd been fighting so long that John no longer even knew the original reason (this was what John assumed. The truth was that John had no idea what they were talking about in the first place).

Their arguing had been rather vicious lately, with Sherlock smashing his violin in a fit and Mycroft tearing his umbrella in defense. The fact that the fighting had gotten physical was quite distressing to John, and after he finished sweeping up the debris from the latest fight (Sherlock had broken a few plates; Mycroft's, not his) he went straight to Mycroft's main office…followed by his secret office then the library, where he finally found the man reading.

"Mycroft, could I borrow you for a second?"

Mycroft irritably placed his book down and immediately John felt the glares of everyone in the room. An old man (with a monocle. A monocle!) in the corner seemed to have multiple spasms at once, his face contorted in indignance. Mycroft apologetically bowed to him, then hurried –more of swept- John out of the room, leaving his book behind.

Once they were safely in the (sound-proof) refuge of Mycroft's office, Mycroft proceeded to whack John on the head with his (new) umbrella.

"Do you realise that no one has spoken in the Silent Room since 1895? It is an old tradition taken very seriously, John," moaned Mycroft, rubbing his temples. "That man in the corner was the head of the library- the direct descendant of the original founder of the library. He will be revoking my library membership for that. One. Sentence." Mycroft lowered himself into his plushy armchair, wrinkles forming on his forehead.

John was at a loss of what to say, and without thinking, asked, "Why were you reading a book called 'How to Win and Argument With Your Brother?" The words came out before John could think. Mycroft stood up, on his face an expression John had seen multiple times before. It looked weary.

"Why do you think?"

John stood there, face to face with Mycroft, and then silently walked out of his office. Both of them just refuse to give in, John pondered, and neither will let me help them. Just as he reached that solemn thought, he got a message on his phone.

_I assume you contacted me to ask why we were arguing in the first place._

A few seconds later, another message popped up

_Sherlock was being incredibly selfish and grumpy about owing a few favors to some Fellowship, and a helpful piece of advice from me to him apparently insulted him. _

John frowned. 'The Fellowship...that weird group of people that came to Sherlock almost a year ago, I think. Wonder why Sherlock owes them favors; he helped them alright I thought?' he muttered softly, making a silent note to message Mycroft when he reached home.

Not completely satisfied with this small chunk of information, John formulated a plan to dig more information out of the Holmes.

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Please choose at least 1 out of the following 3 options:

Follow (if you like it)

Review (if you have a view on it)

Stop reading and find another fanfiction (if you don't like it)

**__**Thanks for reading,

**_Hannon Le_**


	4. The Detective's Mother

Hello guys! Haven't seen you in quite some time; busy with work, internet and whatnot. Hope you don't have a rubbish impression of me now. Also, I hope you like this one. New chapter by end of next week, tops.

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John had initially been quite suspicious of Sherlock after he announced that the Fellowship would be coming over to do Sherlock some favors. The last time he'd seen them was more than half a year ago, so why'd Sherlock only decided to ask for favors now? Also, Sherlock seemed to be less irritable than usual.

In truth, there was nothing much to be suspicious of. The only reason why Sherlock suddenly had the Fellowship doing stuff for him was that Gandalf only just contacted him to remind him of his payment (actually, his mood was dampened considerably by the fact that he had forgotten such a big opportunity for him to have other people do favours for him).

And yes, he was happy. Gandalf had chosen to contact him via Mycroft- rather, via sending an elf. On a great big horse. Interrupting the all-important silence in the prestigious, grand Silent Room. Which hadn't been done since 1895. Admittedly that did lead to the revoking of Mycroft's membership - something that even the tactless Sherlock wouldn't have exactly wanted to happen – but he preferred to see the funny side of it. At least that's what he told John.

Trust John to spoil all that.

"You shouldn't have done that, Sherlock," he reprimanded, a tired air in his voice, unwittingly sparking an uncomfortable memory of the Holmes' own mother.

"Shut up. You're not my mother!" Sherlock snapped back, turning his back to John.

"Thank God I'm not," John quietly walked out of the room.

Sherlock craned his head around just to scowl at his roommate.

"Oh, and your mother knows about all this. She's coming over for lunch tomorrow to have a nice talk with you about it." John shouted over from up the stairs.

Sherlock sat up immediately.

'Mummy is coming? My Mummy, from all the way at the other side of London? Must have been Mycroft, that telltale. Could've been John too – his idea of 'solving problems' was often quite awful. Even Lestrade could've contacted her; perhaps he was concerned about my work performance?'

At this point he banged his head on the table.

'Sherlock, get a grip on yourself. You're rambling; how'd Lestrade even know about the incident? For the matter, why would Mummy even come all the way to Baker St just to talk about dear Mycroft's loss of membership? There must be some other motive.'

He suddenly jerked his head to the right.

'No… what if she's found out about the Umbrella incident?'

He jerked to the other side.

'NO!'

'But what if? We have to find out how-w-w-'

He started to shake his head furiously.

'Sherlock, SHERLOCK!' And he spoke with a rough rasp, saying his name like 'Sherrock'.

John couldn't take it any more and ran into the room from outside, where he'd been spying on Sherlock.

"Sherlock, are you okay? " he was half a meter away from him when Sherlock suddenly looked up, a smug grin on his face. John stopped in his tracks, utterly deadpan.

"Did you enjoy my Gollum impersonation?" Sherlock's voice had an annoying victorious hint.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" John bellowed.

"Hmm, I guess you wouldn't have known who Gollum is, the movie isn't out yet." Sherlock mused, ignoring his outraged roommate.

"You…You really scared me there, Sherlock."

"Well then, you wouldn't have been scared if you hadn't been eavesdropping. And I'll be fine, thank you very much. Just means I have to use one of my favours early." Sherlock swept out of the room, leaving dear John to anxiously ponder on what Sherlock was planning.

Unfortunately for John, Sherlock was one step ahead of him.

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So... enjoyed it? Not a complete waste of time and effort? Then come on an follow the story (because with my unpredictability, you're gonna need the updates) and review it.

Didn't enjoy it and think it's rubbish? Sorry, don't have to continue reading on then. Wouldn't hurt to review though? (Hey- no vulgarities)

No comment on it? Think it's okay? Then I have no idea about what to do with you, but you could continue reading I guess? See if you have an actual feeling about it? Nevermind,

_Hanon le _for reading this far.


	5. Hope You're Not Vegetarian

In which John meets an adorable dwarf with a strong hatred of his greens. Sorry about the absence of Sherlock's mummy. It seems I just can't get to it yet.

(Hmm, I seem to have dropped the alternate story. It felt like I'd written myself into a dead end there as there is no logical, rational reason why Sherlock should owe the Fellowship favors. Sorry. Feel free to pick up from where I left off if you have other ideas; just tell me first! I'd love to read it.)

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The sun filtered in through the windows, its rays gently shining on the bed and the sleeping person within it, giving the room a much-needed brightening.

How unfortunate, then, that that person was a grumpy Sherlock, who currently had no appreciation for the sun or the light that it brought.

'Judging from the annoying position and presence of the sun and the sound of John lumbering up the stairs to wake me up, I'd say it's 10.21am, Tuesday.'

'Spot on, as usual' said John, who strode right in and flung apart the curtains. Sherlock cringed at the sudden light and shot a glare at John.

'This is hardly the time to become a vampire, Sherlock. You _do_ realise that your mother is coming at 1, right?'

'I'm more of a dragon person, really. As for the person arriving for lunch, I've settled it all.' Sherlock grinned at John, then shoved him out of the room and locked the door.

Time to go to his mind palace; what was that _odd_ dream he'd had and did it link to his sudden urge to find and collect treasure?

John plumped himself down in his armchair, newspaper open in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. For the moment Sherlock had no cases – the timely visit by his mother would delay any mad puzzle-solving, life-threatening activities until at least the next day. The latest case had involved running cross-country running, and though the army doctor hated to admit it he could no longer handle such strenuous activity.

For now, peaceful bliss was appreciated.

The doorbell. Then again. And again.

John got up, slightly irritated, and shuffled towards the door. He couldn't see anyone in the door eye – perhaps a child. They did get a few children who came personally to ask for help – usually small cases like missing teddy bears or mysterious glowing pets. He opened the door.

A short man around 4.5 feet tall, carrying suspicious grocery bags, stood in front of the door, nervously playing with a plait.

"Yes, may I help you?" John asked in a way that made it clear that he definitely wanted nothing more than for him to go away. By this point he was half certain this was one of Sherlock's shenanigans.

"Uh, sorry, is this the right place? Mr. Sherlock's residence, _should_ be? I _do_ hope it is right, I don't have enough change for a bus back." The man asked nervously, rummaging in his pockets for the aforementioned change.

"Hmm - well, uh, this is, in fact, Mr. Sherlock's –er- house, yes." The stranger's nervousness only made John more confused. John cleared his throat.

"Sorry, you are -?"

"Ori, sir - Gandalf sent me. Could I please come in and start? The meat might start rotting." Ori gestured to his grocery bags. In a moment of confusion (did he just say Gandalf?) John let him in, and Ori found his way to the kitchen.

John came to his senses and rushed to the kitchen in time to see Ori stab a hunk of meat.

"Wait – wait! Don't start butchering meat in my apartment!"

Ori paused and looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

"Mr, you're not vegetarian are you? Because if you are I'm afraid you have to find another caterer.

I heard Elrond makes a mean salad. Personally not for me, but you know –"

"CATERER?!" John spluttered, all previous assumptions gone.

"Surely Mr Gandalf heard right. You are looking for a chef to cook nice food to mollify your mother with, correct? In an attempt to escape a possible motherly lecture? I was once in quite a bad scrape – got in a bad fight with my brother, you see, I refused to return one of his weapons to him – but after bribing him with some food he let me keep it for good. Now you see, this will all work out just fine…"

As Ori kept on chattering to himself John made his way up to Sherlock's room, where he found him sitting on the floor. Sherlock turned around and grinned.

"You met the dwarf already?"

"Yes, I met the dwarf Sherlock." John impatiently replied.

"And how long did it take you to realise he was a dwarf?"

"Long enough. He explained your whole plot to me."

"Oh did he? Then you know I have everything under control." Sherlock's face was a mixture of amusement and contempt. John felt very tempted to slap him.

"Really, Sherlock? You're going to try to placate your mother with food? This is the best way you can think of? And use up a favour too? You do realise you have a bunch of magical beings indebted to you right? Why not bring her to a nice restaurant?"

"Oh, you'll understand soon enough."Sherlock waltzed out of the room.

Yet again, John found himself in a very confused position.

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Sorry about the late update. It's the holidays now so I can finally find some time to write.

If you liked it please review - they really do help.

If you didn't, feel free to point out why.

Again, _hanon le_.


	6. Sidestory - Get a Flat, Ori

(Just a small side story about Ori Nori Dori and Gandalf, since feel bad about the late update)

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"Are you sure about this Gandalf?"

Dori and Nori stood in their cave talking with Gandalf. Ori was at the table frantically writing down a shopping list. Just moments ago, Gandalf had approached Ori for a favor.

"I'm quite certain that Ori can handle cooking a simple meal." Gandalf assured the older two brothers, who glanced over at the overexcited Ori with worry.

"But the modern, bustling city scene – we're worried it might be a bit confusing for Ori to navigate." Nori said, remembering how Gimli talked of his experience in London. "Tall people everywhere, talking to small metal objects, and boxes on wheels that rushed around on roads. It's the stuff of nightmares!"

Ori nodded in agreement. "And what if he turns out to be vegetarian? I heard many people are, nowadays. The elves' influence, no doubt."

Gandalf stared at the two dwarves with a look of pity. These dwarves, he thought, are going to be stuck in the days of old forever. Why do they even still live in a damp hole like this?

(Gandalf himself had gotten himself a nice cottage in New Zealand, not too far away from town. Electricity was very convenient, and as was those packaged pre-cooked foods they sold in the supermarkets.)

"Ori will be fine. I will bring him there myself, if it is of any consolation to you." The brothers immediately relaxed. If Gandalf accompanied him, then he'd be fine.

"Mr. Gandalf I'm ready to go then!" Ori appeared beside him, dressed in the 'commoner's clothes' that Gandalf had provided for him.

Waving at the brothers, the two left early, to catch the bus that took that back to London.

Staring at the diminishing figures, the brothers couldn't help but note how weird humanity had become.

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Yet again, don't expect regular updates. Expect updates every few months.

Apologies.

_Hannon le_ for reading this short thing :)


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